


The Boys

by Selmak



Series: Jemma and Her Boy Toys universe [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, M/M, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Service Dogs, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-19 16:25:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4753058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selmak/pseuds/Selmak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Decided to return to the Jemma and Her Boy Toys universe. I'm playing with the boys prior to them meeting Jemma Simmons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Felix

Six months Post Battle of New York

Felix Blake smiled when his fiancée sat down at the breakfast table.   He was so goddamn lucky that Nikki had stayed, after the Battle of New York. She was **_still_** wearing her engagement ring, though he had offered to break their engagement.  After all, Nikki was an absolutely amazing woman, who really shouldn’t be hogtied to a compulsive, PTSD suffering Felix Blake.

Yet, she had stayed.

He heard the obviously meant-to-be-overheard comments him at the job. The jeering commentaries that he was mentally unbalanced and not fit for work. What with his obsessive compulsive disorder flaring, as everything had to be triple-quadruple checked as now, more than ever, sloppiness could not be accepted. And yes, Clare the bane of his existence, she of the inability to make coffee, who typed three words per minute, and who left work early on a weekly basis that meant punctuation was REQUIRED. 

However, his job (and Nikki, dear sweet Nikki) had been what had gotten him back on his feet.

He was so goddamn lucky. He reminded himself of that repeatedly, obsessively even.

She… **_understood_** … when he retreated back to the safety of their apartment.  That once regular dinner outs at the various Coulson endorsed restaurants were curtailed. Because how could he risk taking her to a building that might collapse? For her to experience the over whelming terror of being trapped under wrecked for two days?  Knowing that the one beam snapping, one miniscule shift of the building’s weight and it would come crashing down on her?

And when he endured one of his panic attacks, when he stumbled and stuttered over his words, while his heart raced and he felt as though he was back under the rubble, she … **_stayed_**.

He reached for her hand and he couldn’t help but admire how the engagement ring sparkled in the early morning light.  The magnificence of the ring didn’t come close to her beauty, however.  She was Italian, dark, exotic and fiery.

“Nikki, tonight… can we… make love?” He stuttered and tripped over his words, but he watched her face for her reaction.  “I… I… **_miss_** you.”

They hadn’t shared a bed since he had come home from the hospital. Then he had been wearing assorted external fixators and pins to fix his shattered legs and hips.  While he had worn them, she had slept in a guest room because he had been scared of something happening when he slept. Not just fearing that she might accidentally jar the fixators (which hurt), but the nightmares, vicious nightmares, where he was trapped underneath the rubble and no one knew he was there and he was gonna die there when the rubble shifted and… where he woke up screaming and weeping in abject terror.

Tonight wasn’t about lovemaking, it was, but it wasn’t. It was Felix who felt strong enough, emotionally, to recommit to their relationship.  She had stood by him during the worst days of his life, and… he wanted her to know that he was **_back_**.

Let the wedding plans proceed, let the babymaking attempts begin with all due haste after the wedding…. Because Felix Blake wanted Nicolette Amatore to be his partner in his life, now and forever. And if they had a boy, Felix hoped that Nikki would agree to name him after her father because Giovanni Amatore was the only experience Felix X. Blake had of a positive paternal figure.

She looked at him, and her eyes softened.  She even squeezed his hand, which had to mean, “YES”.

Felix Blake took her hand and kissed it.  Dear God, he was so fucking lucky.

Hopefully, if he had enough time today, he’d take Winston, his PTSD service dog, on a trip to Tiffany’s. He’d pick up something sparkly for Nikki in order to celebrate their new beginning. 

She deserved it and so much more.  Since he couldn’t give voice to his love and deep appreciation, not with his overclocked mind spinning like a top, leaving him mute and tongue tied, hopefully she understood how much he loved her.

* * *

 

“Hey, Zombie,” Blake greeted Coulson in the stairway.  He didn’t do elevators, not unless he had no other options. He claimed it was so he could rebuild the strength in his legs, but the truth was he couldn’t handle the sheer physical closeness of an elevator.

“Metal man,” Coulson retorted.

Since it was only the two of them they could be friendly, not the act they put on in front of the others.

“Can you recommend a good bottle of champagne?” Felix asked Phil.  “Nikki and I…. I want it to be romantic. Has to be… be perfect… and I don’t know champagne. Phil, it has to be perfect because… because…..”

He was twitching something horrible, so he grabbed his left wrist with his right hand.

Phil Coulson smiled, not at Felix and his twitches, but at old fond memories, as he was a romantic.

“Aud and I found picnic dinners to be very romantic and sensual.  I’ll call my grocer, see if he could set you up with a picnic basket.”

Trust Coulson to have a grocer on standby even with the infrastructure still recovering from the disastrous Chitauri invasion.

“Champagne?” Felix repeated. “Don’t worry… if it’s expensive. I can pay.”

“Yes. I’ll throw something in for Winston, as he’s a good boy and deserves a treat.”

Winston, newly adopted PTSD therapy dog, was big salt n’ pepper Giant Schnauzer who was still accustoming himself to his new pet’s odd littermates.  He adored his new pet, Felix, who required a great deal of comfort and affection because he was a puppy who had been badly hurt.  Phil, Winston enjoyed also, as Phil knew how to tell when Winston was ‘On Duty’ and when he was ‘Off Duty’ which some people couldn’t grasp.  John Garrett, Winston was still debating over as he seemed to be trouble incarnate, which was problematic to his role of keeping Felix safe… but the female… she was almost cat like.  He and the female weren’t getting along as WINSTON was Felix’s Best Friend, not her.  She seemed to think that she was, so the two of them battled, but quietly, for Felix’s attention.

And the less said about the female that his Pet endured at the strange place called, ‘THE OFFICE’ the better. If Winston wasn’t a serious therapy dog, he’d like to leave her a present in her chair, as she delighted in upsetting his pet.

“It has to be perfect.” Felix knew he was repeating himself, but yet he continued. “It’s our first time since I got hurt. Needs to be… **_romantic_**.”

His pet was beginning to shake and stress, so Winston sprang into action. He nudged Felix’ hand which caused his pet to focus on Winston.  For added cuteness, he waved his little docked tail.

He was rewarded with several head scratches and a calmer pet, so he had done his job. Winston Leonard Spencer-Churchill Blake was very serious about being the best therapy dog he could be for his new best friend.

* * *

 

His new best friend was nervous, but a **_happy,_** excited, nervous which as a state of emotion was somewhat confusing to Winston.  He stayed close to Felix because if something happened, he had to be there.  He so thoroughly focused on Felix that he ignored the female in the Office, even though she repeatedly sneezed, rubbed her eyes and cast aspersions on his (documented) hypo-allergic nature.

“Winston, tonight your mom and I are gonna reconnect,” his pet informed him.  “She’s everything to me.”

Winston pouted and his pet leaned towards him, “Stop pouting, you’re everything to me, also. You keep me functioning, but Dad needs some private time with your mom.”

Winston forgave his pet, as he was a very magnanimous dog.

* * *

 

Nicolette felt the bars of a jail cell closing in on her.  She loved Felix, the old Felix, but the new Felix, with his obscene dependency on John and Phil…. His terrors… justifiable…. Completely… that ruled his life now…. And he was insisting on shutting her out…. And letting John and Phil in…. and he wanted to make love, and God knew she missed him and their physical relationship…. But she couldn’t handle the new norm – where John and Phil were so heavily involved in Felix…. And her life… and the dog… the dog that didn’t like her, that seemed determine to push his way in as the number one person in Felix’s life…. She was exhausted of trying to fight her way back into Felix’s life.

She tried to be there for him, to accept the new norm, but he was almost completely mute these days.

He had offered to break their engagement, to set her free… and she had refused because she _loved_ him.

But he was back to being the old Felix. Chary of revealing too much of himself, fearful of abandonment (And GOD, what she would do to him when she left… and oh God, she was finally admitting that she was leaving him, not taking a breather, but **_leaving_**.) It had taken her years… YEARS…. For her to break through the walls, for the first soft and shyly spoken, ‘I love you’….

God, they had been together for **_five_** years. If she had her way, they’d be working on their second baby by now…  But no… Felix had been Felix… slow… considerate…. generous…

She was thirty eight years old and she had a bad case of baby fever, but… their relationship such as it was…  If she was pregnant, she’d need to be first in Felix’s life, his partner… not someone that he felt he must protect, someone that he couldn’t confide his issues.

So she took the cowards’ way out and left.

* * *

 

He was almost giddy by the time he left the office.   Freshly shaved, wearing the cologne she liked and… so looking forward….  Phil had outdone himself, as there were flowers, glorious long stem roses… eleven… not a dozen ... which meant that he truly and deep loved Nikki and… the picnic basket… with the chilled champagne.

He was stimming, hard, legs and hands shaking so he sat in his Jeep until he ceased. Now, of all times, he couldn’t be Flakey Blakey.

He took the elevator… ELEVATOR… and he stood in front of his apartment door. 

On one side, normalcy. A woman that loved him…. And… it took several times for him to place his key in the lock, because he was trembling that hard… because… because… he was about to recommit himself to the woman that he loved more than life itself.

He opened the door to his apartment (FINALLY), anticipated that Nikki would be waiting for him, happy and eager ….

When he realized the horrible, horrible truth, his world imploded.

* * *

Winston, Service Dog Extraordinaire, bolted down the hallway. He needed to find his pets’ friends or someone…. Because his pet was **_not_** well.  He had collapsed on the floor and was making soft mewling noises like an injured puppy. Even Winston licking his pet hadn’t stopped his pet’s full body shaking. He was rather new as a Therapy Dog, and he thought …. **_Phil_** …. Phil would know what to do.

The moving spot opened and he managed to get inside of it. He’d watch the door open, and when there was a red couch, he would exit as that was where his pet’s littermates were.

However, there was a slight problem as he was the only one in the moving spot and he was not moving. What did his pet do when he entered?

He marked the wall as it lit up. So Winston poked at the various items until they were lit. There was also a ringing noise, but he ignored it.

After two stops, he saw the red couch and made his escape, loudly barking as he raced as fast as he could to his pets’ littermates. He stopped in front of their door and barked. Loudly.  He even scratched at the door until one of them opened the door.

“Winston?” Phil asked. Fortunately, it was Phil as he was far smarter than the other one.

“Where’s Blake?” John asked.

“I don’t see him,” Phil admitted. “Hey!”

Winston had just enough of their stupidity, as he was being quite clear in his demands for them to follow him. Their idiocy called for drastic action, so he grabbed Phil’s pant legs and began to pull. Dear Dog, help him! He was reduced to tearing clothes!

“Winston? Is Blake down the well?” asked John.

“Something must be wrong,” Phil informed John, who was rummaging through his kit for supplies. “What are you bringing?”

“A tranq dart,” John explained. “Just in case.”

 


	2. Phil

The two barreled up the steps, and ran towards Felix’s apartment. Fortunately, the door was ajar, and they arrived to find Felix Blake about to respond in a very stupid, extremely permanent manner. John Garrett didn’t even think, he just reacted and Darted poor Felix Blake into oblivion.

Fortunately, the safety was still on as the gun fell to the floor as did Felix. Winston ran to his pet and began licking him. **_Energetically_**. Blake gave off a little moan and began stroking Winston, which caused the dog to lick him still more.

John hurriedly closed the door so the little ladies that lived down the hallway from Felix would not get a free show. Phil quickly and carefully kicked the gun to a safe difference.

“Where’s his furniture?” John asked as there appeared to be no couch on which to place Blake.

“Where’s NIKKI?” Phil reminded John of the essentials.

“I’m assuming that she and the furniture are together,” snapped John. He grabbed Felix under his arms and pulled him upwards. Through sheer force of his verbose personality, Garrett managed to get Blake back on his feet. “See if she left him a bed at least. We need to put him to bed.”

Blake struggled to stand and John supported him until he was steady.

“What happened?” asked a sympathetic Phil.

John was not a very sympathetic soul, as he was the pragmatic soul of the dangerous duo.

“First thing you’re doing is cancelling her credit cards and getting her off your bank account,” was John’s sage advice. “Get your name off her car loan!”

Felix didn’t listen, instead he was focused on just **_breathing_**.  When his breathing was somewhat under control, he shook off John Garrett and staggered toward the kitchen. She must have left a note.  Yes, she must have left him a note to explain what he had done wrong and how to fix it.

“I thought you tranq’d him,” Phil whispered to John as they followed the eerily quiet Felix Blake to the kitchen.

“I did,” John admitted. “He should having the sweet dreams of an innocent baby, but he shook it off.”

Felix Blake made it to the kitchen where he noticed that it appeared pretty bare.  No doubt she hadn’t had enough time to take the fridge or the gourmet stove, with the two ovens and the eight burners.  When they had moved in together, he had spared no expense…

There was a book on the table so he picked it up, shielding it from John and Phil because they’d take it from him. It was from **_Nikki_** …. And he couldn’t let them take it from him. The title shattered him further ** _… How to Let Go of an Unhealthy Relationship; When Letting Go is the Best for the Other Person_** with a scribbled note of "It's for the best, Felix. I can't handle your issues as you really need help.”

 _You were supposed to be my help,_ he thought. _My reason for living.  I had… champagne…. Tonight…. Champagne…. And…. And… tonight I wanted to make love to you. I thought of nothing else all day but how we used to be… How much I wanted it to be like that._

The village must not have noticed that their idiots were missing, as there were two of them in his apartment, babbling inanely. He heard them without comprehending their babble; one of them was calling his therapist… the other one was calling his bank to take Nikki off his accounts.

A cold wet nose touched his hand. It brought him back to the present, as Winston had his leash in his mouth and he was wagging his butt so hard his little docked tail was close to falling off.  His dark eyes stared adoring at Felix and they said, **_don’t you worry_ , _I love you_. _Also_ _I’m quite sure if you take me for a nice, long walkie, everything will be much, much better._**

_Oh, Winston needed to pee.  A walk sounds like a very good idea, maybe to someplace far, far away from here._

It took a few tries as he still clutched the book because he planned on reading it cover to cover so Nikki would come back. However, Winston needed him to take him for a walk, so he had to persevere. Fortunately, he managed to connect the leash as they were strict about leashes even though Winston was such a good dog that he didn’t need a leash. Felix stood under his own power and walked toward the door.

“Where are you going?” One of the village idiots demanded.

He stared at him in complete bewilderment and then pointed at Winston. It was odd, because his one hand was uncontrollably shaking.                                                                    
  
“You’re taking Winston for a walk?” the other idiot asked.

_Well, what did he think? Winston couldn’t walk him himself. He lacked opposable thumbs so he couldn’t open doors or use the elevator._

“You’re taking reading material?” the first idiot asked.

He clutched the book tighter to his chest and nodded his head. There was a park bench where he could sit and read even while Winston sent and examined his pee mail.

“Felix Xavier Blake, you are truly scaring me,” the shorter of the two men informed him.   “Why are you going outside?”

“Winston has to pee,” he managed to state.  It took a great deal of effort for him to say that much, but Winston’s happily wagging docked tail made it worthwhile.

“Ok,” said the larger man. “Winston has to mark his territory. Phil and I will come along as we need some fresh air.”

Felix nodded his head. He had barely left his apartment before he had a full scale panic attack.

* * *

 

Felix Blake was assisted to his bedroom and propped up with pillows. Meanwhile, Winston raced off to the kitchen. The dog returned back to the bedroom, carrying the bottle of champagne.

“Seriously?”  John asked. “I thought you were supposed to bring him a bottle of water from the fridge.”              

Phil mouthed, “Nikki took the water from the fridge?”

“Did the bitch take the fridge also?” John asked, as he had no filter.

Winston carefully placed the bottle on the table, then raced back to the kitchen. He returned, carrying a small bag of medications which he placed next to Phil.  That done, he crawled into Felix’s lap to provide his pet with the necessary deep pressure therapy to help him cope with his latest trauma.

Felix soon was lulled to sleep, as the tranq dart hit him with full affect, plus having a very large dog applying firm, deep pressure.  Winston gave his best friend a few facial licks, was content that he was in fact **_asleep_** and not shamming him, before he carefully crawled to the side of the bed.

Ph.il scratched Winston, and even John was permitted to pet him in acknowledgement of Winston being the Best Service Dog Ever.

“Keep an eye on him,” John whispered.

Winston was a very expressive dog, as he looked properly affronted.

* * *

 

John handed Felix’s gun to Phil, who opened the gun safe. He did a quick count, three times and then nodded his head.  John counted also and then they both announced their tallies. They matched, to each other and to what they believed his total was in both guns, knives and assorted items.  That done, Phil changed the combination on the gun safe and then locked it.  

“I don’t understand why Winston sitting on his legs is calming,” admitted John. “He usually can’t bear the weight of a blanket on them.”

“There is a relaxing and calming effect as the pressure helps relieve anxiety by regulating the sensory system when it in complete overload. Winston is a furry security blanket, thought a slightly heavy one,” was Phil’s sage advice. “Four legged unconditional love, and quiet acceptance.”

“Speaking of unconditional love and quiet acceptance, I must confess my quiet acceptance regarding my unconditional love to slash Nikki’s tires.”

Phil smiled, but didn’t protest.  He put the bottle of champagne into the refrigerator, then emptied the picnic basket.  The various exotic items on which he had spent so much time deciding were then also put into the fridge. Maybe Felix might want something to eat? Maybe not, but Phil hated to see stuffed dates go to waste.

“We make a list of what is missing. We decide what of the missing objects are the most important to Felix and we take them back,” Phil informed John.

“She took his coffee machine,” John said.  His smile was utterly blood thirsty when he admitted, “We’ll probably need some help. May?”

“I might know a few people,” Phil admitted.  His smile was mild, but it didn’t fool Garrett. Phil was furious over Nikki’s betrayal, and he desired blood.

“Let’s start the inventory. First – the coffee machine is missing.”

And so began Operation Blake Take Back.

 

 

 


	3. John

Felix Blake woke after a brief nap. For a moment, all was perfect in his world, and then reality hit.  Nikki had fled, there were blankets on his legs that felt as heavy as any of the girders under which he had been pinned. His breathing quickened even as he thought, **_no, no, no_**.  His pulse was ratchetting it up another twenty miles above  the speed limit Winston decided to lick him. 

On the lips.

That caused him to sit up and stop those crazy thoughts as he was too busy thinking ‘ ** _GERMS’_**.  Damn him for a fool, he thought Winston looked quite pleased with himself. As well as he should, as he had derailed the Blake Crazy Train even as it had been picking up speed.

“You sure that you aren’t human?” Blake asked his therapy dog.

 ** _I’m better than a human, I’m a dog_** was Winston’s response.

“Do me a favor, don’t ever run off with the labradoodle downstairs.  I won’t be able to handle it,” Felix pleaded. He struggled to keep his tone light but he could admit that he sounded close to fracturing. “Not doing too good right now.”

Winston decided to lick him again, then decided to lean against Felix for a comforting dog hug.

It was easy talking to just Winston, because Winston would listen and not interrupt him or even make suggestions that were thinly veiled commands such as ‘Do you think you should call your therapist?’  ( ** _Phil? John? I’m looking at you_**.) When it was Phil or John, or worst yet, both of them, their smothering overprotectiveness made him tense, stutter and stammer.

They meant well, but he feared that he never be able to stand on his own feet.

“She is everything to me,” Felix explained to Winston. “ ** _Everything_**.”

The two besties clung to each other for a bit. Well, Winston was supportive and Felix leaned on him.

* * *

 

Felix Blake was busy reading _**How to Let Go of an Unhealthy Relationship; When Letting Go is the Best for the Other Person**_ _when he heard footsteps in the hallway_ _._   While he knew that it was probably Phil or John or God Forbid, both of them, a small part of him plaintively hoped that it was Nikki.  It was the same pathetic fragment that had clung to the idea that one day his mother would return for him, like she had promised.

Well, yeah, that had been a wasted hope.

Quickly, he hid the book in a drawer, and went to meet whomever it was.

If it was Nikki, he’d assure her that he understood, that there had to be two wholes in the relationship, not one whole and ¾ of a whole, duct taped together. Felix would assure her that his anger would be directed towards himself, because he was the one at fault.

He’d work harder on his therapy, physical and psychological.

_Just please come back, Nikki. Please._

To his intense disappointment, it was … **_John_**.

“Hey,” John stated. “Game’s about to start. Ordered a couple pizzas, got some beers, you hungry?”

Felix knew that he shouldn’t drink. Not feeling like he did, but he also couldn’t stand to be alone. Don’t tell Winston, but right now he craved human companionship.

* * *

 

The four of them sat in his bed on the pretense of watching the double header because the living room’s tv and the sofa had gone a missin’.  Being male, they refused to acknowledge the elephant in the room.   Instead, they ate pizza, had a few beers, or more than a few, in Felix’s case.  Perhaps they were all a bit more than loaded, as John had provided the booze (typical), while Phil had ordered the gourmet pizza.

Don’t get him wrong, Felix liked pizza as much as other Irish Catholic boy but… somehow, Indian style pizza, topped with tandoori chicken and orangic cilantro completed with a side of green chutney seemed quite wrong, but yet … right…. God he must be polluted!

“It’s my fault…” a very drunk Felix finally admitted.  “I wanted… **_sex_** ….”

Yes. Put it that way, not the more desperate sounding, “I just wanted to make love to my fiancée.”

“It’s not your fault,” protested Phil.

“Bitch shouldn’t have taken your TV,” was John’s retort.  “If you wanted sex, you should have hired a pro. Right, Phil?”

Phil’s response was to nearly spit up his beer as even he protested that he didn’t know any ‘sex pros’.

“He didn’t need a sex pro, he had Aud,” Felix reminded John. His comment caused Phil to sputter something obscene. Fortunately, Felix wasn’t listening as he was so drunk that he could only concentrate on one conversation at a time. “Seriously, you were the only one that wasn’t having sex on a regular basis… _Mano y mano_ doesn’t count.”

“Fuck you,” Garrett angrily protested. “Fuck you, fuck you, **_fuck you_**.”

Phil, ever the peacemaker, even while almost completely annihilated by the demon liquor, reached over to Garrett.  He struggled to reassuringly pat John, succeeded in petting Felix instead even as he slurred, “Come on, Johnny. Don’t get mad.”

More drinks were imbibed, the conversation never got out of the gutter as they discussed sex, sex, sex and their unhappy realization that they were never ever having sex again, until finally someone offered a rather simple and **_hands on_** solution to their most pressing problem.

And being utterly blitzed, and truthfully, touched starved, they agreed.

What occurred next was awkward.

No points would ever be awarded by the judges based on grace, skill and technique as they were battered and damaged in both body and soul.  In the afterglow, John was curled up next to him, while a blissful Phil insisted on cuddling and kissing the two of them.  No tongue though, as the three of them had decided collectively and without discussion that tongue kissing would be…. _Weird_.

“You’re awfully quiet,” whispered Phil.

“You ok?” asked John.

He nodded his head, as he couldn’t speak because his thoughts were racing, racing, racing in circles, screaming that something **_profound_** that just occurred and…. Fuck, he had lost Nikki and he couldn’t lose his two best friends. Everything had just changed between the three of them, and Phil and John didn’t realize it.  Tomorrow, when they were …. clear headed and hung over… they’d realize what a colossal mistake that they had just made.

“Oh, let me turn on the overhead fan, I know you can’t sleep without the breeze,” stated Phil.  “Do you want to be in the middle?”

He shook his head, so they exchanged places.  It took a few minutes for everyone to get settled back into position, and then Winston decided that he wanted to join them. He took his place next to Felix, as he **_knew_** that Felix needed him.

“Covers?” John asked. He was pulling up the sheets and the duvet to cover them. The fan, while a necessity so Felix could sleep, made the room a bit chilly.  

“If you think we need them, I can’t feel the fan’s breeze on my skin,” admitted Phil. “Felix? You ok with covers?”

He nodded.

**_God, if you’re there, please. Please. Please. I think I’m falling apart.  I have to keep it together. I have to keep it together._ **

 


	4. Winston

The morning afterwards found Phil and John snoring while Felix Blake made his escape. Not because he was ashamed or God forbid, **_mortified_** , over what had happened, (though weeping after he had climaxed had been a first AND HOPEFULLY A **_LAST_** for him) but because Winston needed to send his pee mail. He ensured that Winston’s bladder was quite empty prior to returning back to the scene of the crime.  Maybe it was sufficient time for them to escape, or for them to make the conscious decision to stay, but it would be their choice because they should be awake by now.

Dear God almighty, he had fucking **_cried_**.

Big boo hooing tears, body shaving tremors that Winston had licked off his face.

Fortunately, John and Phil had been asleep, because they already knew and accepted that he was pathetic. They didn’t need that fact reinforced.

Blake and Winston returned home to find a freshly showered John Garrett in the kitchen drinking OJ straight out of the container. Felix couldn’t hide his annoyance as damn it, the highly regimented Felix always had Orange Juice in the morning.  Not today apparently as it was clinically proven that Garrett germs led to literal globs of garrulousness.

“Sorry,” was John’s quasi apology when he realized that Felix X. Blake was not amused with his unilateral acquisition of the Orange Juice. “For some reason, you don’t seem to have any glasses. Phil’s showering and then we’ll go for breakfast at the diner. Pardon for dripping, but your towels are AWOL.”

“Soap’s gone also,” admitted a dripping Phil.  “Thank God she left you shampoo.”

“Phil, I regretfully have to inform you that it is actually Winston’s shampoo,” Felix informed Phil, who appeared concerned. As well he should, as all three of them were follicularly challenged.

“Do you have any urge to go pee on a tree? Do you want me to put a collar on you?” John not-so-helpfully asked.

“No!” Phil announced.

“Should be fine then.” John then put the OJ back in the fridge, much to Felix’s OCD enhanced disbelief.  John then opened a closet door in the pantry and rummaged for a bit. He then closed it, victorious in locating whatever it was that Nikki had left and then he threw Phil a dog biscuit.  “Just in case you’re hungry.”

“Fuck you,” Coulson snapped.

Well since Phil didn’t want the biscuit, Winston decided to sit in front of Coulson and give him the Big Puppy Eyes.

“Here,” Coulson informed Winston.

There was a reason why Winston liked Coulson best of his puppy’s littermates.

* * *

 

Breakfast was the usual affair. John had two servings of Huevos Rancheros with Avocado Salsa Verde, Phil had strawberry French Toast, Winston had a serving of dog treats while Felix decided, after recent events, to be bold and adventurous. Yes, he requested his usual Eggs Benedict and the veggie home fries. However, for today and today only, he decided he’d like an extra side of Hollandaise sauce. Plus he had a big glass of Garrett-free Orange Juice.

By mutual, unspoken accord, they didn’t mention what had occurred between the three of them the previous night. Chalk it up as a fluke, so instead they focused on the issue at hand, Felix’s lack of furniture and how best to remedy it.

The sex last night had been a chance carnal occurrence, best leave it at that.

And if later that day, after they watched a movie, had a bit too much to drink once more and they decided to christen Felix’s new bed set, well, it was the **_liquor_**.  Plus it was a liquor-induced logical way to exorcise Nikki’s presence from Felix’s bedroom.

Nothing more.  Still no tongue, but a little more comfort level in the touching … which was …. Nice…. Really…. Really nice… because it had been six months since someone had touched **_him_** in a non-medical way.  For the last six months, he had been the one to tentatively reach out to Nikki, to hold her hand, to ask if they could make love.  All the while, terrified that he’d start Stimming or Blaking out.

He had forgotten how good it could be… to be touched by someone who cared.  And if he Stimmed or Blaked out, so fucking be it. It wasn’t like he was in love with them. (Dear God, No!)

However, Felix Blake was quite happy that he didn’t break down in tears again.

Because that would be beyond weird.

* * *

 

The physical change in their relationship continued, uncommented upon by the three men involved.   You know, the entire don’t know, don’t tell thing that had worked so well for Clinton…. Because since Felix didn’t know what their ‘relationship’ was now, how could he tell? Or perhaps Clinton’s denial, ‘I did not have sexual relations’ worked better because all they did was kiss and touch. And if one day one of the boys (Phil) slipped him tongue because he was well and truly liquored up and made a mistake in his trajectory, he didn’t protest. Instead, he concentrated on French kissing Phil as well as he could and he then did the same for John.  Since no one acknowledged it, it became part of the show.  

However, some parts remained a No Fly Zone by mutual, silent accord.

Whatever it was…. **_Nice_** … because the three of them knew each other’s issues and worked around it. Felix had his claustrophobia, his raging OCD, his twitches and his PTSD, plus his therapy dog, John was an overprotective control freak (meant in the nicest possible way) and Phil suffered from tactile anesthesia.  When he had felt… safe, he had let John or Phil take charge (Ok - TOP in the vernacular), because they needed to be in charge. 

Felix understood why Phil needed to top; because he while couldn’t _feel_ when he was touched… he wanted… no… ** _needed_** … to **_reciprocate_**.  Sometimes, Phil was too hesitant, and once or twice, he had been too rough, but Felix hadn’t even given voice to so much as an ouch. Because he knew Phil hadn’t meant to hurt him, and he feared how Phil would react. Badly, possibly, even **_leave_** …  If Phil left, John would also, because everyone left Felix Blake. For examples, see Mamma Blake, see Nikki.

Naturally, he had to fuck up a good thing simply by being Felix.

“Hey,” Phil softly commented one morning when it was just the two of them as John Garrett was out terrorizing the free world with his helpful assistance of his minder Trip. “What’s this?”

He placed his hand on Felix’s upper thigh and inhaled.  Phil, who had been smiling just a few minutes before, was now solemn.

“I **_bruised_** you,” Phil stated.  Then in a much softer tone, he added, “I am **_incredibly_** sorry.”

“Winston jumped on my leg,” Felix lied. “It’s nothing. I had it for a few days.”

“It’s a thumb print,” protested Phil. “Why didn’t you tell me that I was hurting you? Was it when I…”

Phil gestured, as while they appeared to both be consenting adults, they were, in fact, still little boys who wore suits and possessed a large assortment of guns. Saying _blow job_ or God forbid, _Going Down_ was beyond either of them at this point of time, and probably would be forever and ever, amen.

“You **_weren’t_** ,” Felix insisted even though that had been when Phil had been a little too aggressive, a little too intense.  However Felix had accepted the fact that Phil hadn’t wanted to hurt him, so he hadn’t commented on it. “You **_didn’t_**.”

Phil nodded his head.

“Coffee?” Felix asked as he sat up in the bed, deliberately covering his leg.

“Thanks, but I’m running late,” Phil stated.

It was a lie. Phil knew it. Felix did also. Even Winston did, as his big head abruptly appeared on the mattress as he leaned on the bed.

**_Do you need me? I’m here, Felix._ **

“Game later?” Felix asked. “I…. I’ll order… a couple… subs?”

_Please say **yes**.  Don’t run, Phil. I don’t think I could handle being on my own with only Winston. _

“Meeting tonight as Barton’s scheduled to arrive later today, not sure when I’ll be done,” was the next lie.

“OK,” Felix agreed.  Because what could he say, really?

* * *

 

John Garrett returned back from a mission, and decided to crash at Coulson’s apartment as he alternated between Coulson and Blake’s residences.   He immediately noticed that Coulson was acting odd, so he waited, watched and observed.  Felix had gone to ground and wasn’t answering his calls. Not so unusual, but combined with Phil’s behavior, he wondered what the hell had gone on while he had been away.

Blake wasn’t in his office, but Clare was feeling all wounded indignation about her boss and his dog to which she was supposedly highly allergic. However, the allergy tests had come back that she was allergic to ragweed, cat dander and Bermuda grass. Not dog.

He let her huff and puff, vent and complain so he could gather the needed intel. Blake had been out for two days, so either he was dying or something had rattled him. Ten to one, it was Coulson.  Boys, boys, boys, it was time for him to get involved and administer tough love. Seriously, with the Repopulation of America Act looming on the horizon, he needed to get in good with the SHIELD program administrator so he could find someone to take care of his boys when he was gone. As in permanently gone, as his cybernetic parts were failing.

He had defined a list of characteristics that the possible candidate would need, so he added ‘Ability to kick them in the ass as needed’.

* * *

 

“Felix invited us over tonight,” he lied to Coulson. “I told him yes.”

He wasn’t facing Coulson, but he could see Phil Coulson’s face in the mirror.  Phil blanched, seriously… **_blanched_** … and swallowed once or twice.

“I have plans,” Phil lied.

He was seriously rattled, so John confirmed that Felix was part of the issue.

“Ok, then I’ll go solo,” John Garrett stated. For added incentive, he flashed Phil Coulson a wild smile. “Felix and I can watch the game together. Don’t wait up, I’ll probably crash at his place.”

The very idea of John Garrett, unchaperoned, had the desired reaction. 

“I can cancel,” decided an unnerved Phil.

“Wonderful, I’ll confirm with Blake.”

* * *

 

One ringie dingie, two ringie dingie. Felix’s voice mail picked up which meant that he was screening his calls.

“Hello, it’s me.  Got some great beer that I picked up, so I’ll be stopping by later tonight. Need anything?” 

_Come on, Blake. Answer the phone._

Felix picked up the phone, “I can make dinner? Is Phil… coming? Just curious, so I know how much to make.”

Liar, liar, liar, John mentally singsonged. “Yes, he’s tagging along.”

“Great,” Felix stated.  “Can’t wait.”

 _Really, you sound like you’d prefer a teeth extraction instead of this._ His plan set in motion, John said his goodbyes. 

“Ok, Coulson, what happened?” John asked.  Fortunately, Phil was in need of a confessor as he spilled his soul.

“I can’t be involved with you two anymore,” Phil confessed. “With my tactile anesthesia, I can’t feel… I don’t know how much pressure I’m using when I touch you. What if I was too rough?”

“I’d tell you,” John admitted. “I’d say, ‘hey, ease up, Phil as you’re risking the family jewels’. Seriously though, did you and Felix have an issue while I was gone?”

He waited, and when no information was forthcoming, he added, “ ** _Phil_**?”

“I bruised him,” was Phil’s soft admission.

“Did you slap him?” John asked. “I didn’t think he was into that.”

“No,” protested a horrified Phil.

“Hit him?” John prompted. “Open hand? Closed fist?”

“NO,” was Phil’s immediate response. “NO! NO!”

John was steadily guiding Phil towards a realization that he was too guilty to make. “So, completely unintentional?”

“Yes, I’d never deliberately hurt Felix,” Phil insisted. “But I **_did_**.”

“Accidentally, and then you walked away because you were scared?” John asked. “Knowing Felix’s little issues with abandonment, you just **_left_**? Did you at least put your pants on before you ran screaming back to your apartment?”

“I **_left_** because I trusted Felix,” protested Phil. “I can’t trust myself, but I believed that Felix would tell me if I was hurting him. He kept telling me that Winston bruised him. He lied to me, John. **_Lied_**.”

“Because he knew you’d have a freak out and run,” John explained. “He was quite correct. Now, when you get to his apartment, you two will kiss and make up. You two are absolute idiots, I don’t know why I put up with you both.”

“Because nobody else will,” Phil reminded him.

John then loudly cursed out Phil for his stupidity and Phil smiled, for the first time in what seemed to be days.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Phil questioned.

* * *

 

Felix was in bad shape when they arrived. From his appearance, John believed Blake hadn’t shaved in several days, and his eyes were red-rimmed and exhausted because he probably hadn’t slept either.  Blake was tense, as though waiting for a blow to fall, for harsh words to be exchanged.

“Hey,” Phil whispered. 

“Hey,” Felix warily responded.

“Missed you,” Phil assured him. As was customary now, he kissed Felix on the lips. Slowly and carefully, until Felix relaxed into the kiss.  It wasn’t a very good kiss, Phil admitted to himself, but hopefully, Felix would accept it as the apology it was meant to be. When they finally broke apart, Phil gently smiled and asked, “We good?”

Felix had relaxed, and he was smiling.

“Of course, we’re good. Never a problem, right?” Felix asked.

“Nope,” Phil admitted.             

Even Winston couldn’t believe how stupid the pups were being as he exhaled. **_Loudly_**.

“For the love of God,” John protested. “There was and is a big problem and you two are just ignoring it. Phil, you can’t run away when there’s an issue and Felix, you have to trust the two of us. You can’t just keep your mouth shut because you think it’s the easiest way of handling it. Just because we’re breaking your bed slats, doesn’t mean we start acting differently. Before, if Phil was an ass, you’d delight in telling him. Phil, when was the last time you **_ran_** from conflict?”

“About the last time Jonathan Garrett made sense,” Phil admitted.

“Actually, it’s the first time in recorded history,” Felix inserted.

John Garrett added, “Thick skinned” to his list of criteria.

* * *

 

John Garrett greeted his two friends and then he exhaled. “I got a registered green envelope today.”

Green meant that their DNA swab and their questionnaires had been deemed as a possible match for some unlucky soul.

“Same here,” Phil admitted.

Felix nodded also.

“Aren’t we a bit too old to be _prospiciens patres_?” John Garrett protested, even though he knew damn well what had occurred. He’d have to slip Bobby in the Match Division a Franklin or two when he got a chance.

“We’re supposed to meet her in two hours,” Phil explained to the peanut gallery. “You ok, Blake?”

Blake shook his head.  “Here’s the intel,” he offered. “It’s pretty bad.  Jemma Simmons, half of the FitzSimmons duality, us three, Jasper Sitwell.”

“Dog!” Inserted John Garrett. When he noticed that Winston looked affronted, he quickly apologized to Blake’s service dog.

“And Grant Ward.”

More groans.

“We’ve got to protect Simmons from those two,” Garrett stated. “So here’s the plan….”

As his two friends listened intently, John Garrett managed not to smile. Everything was going just as he planned.  If his detailed shenanigans came to fruition, he'd see his two buddies successfully settled down with Jemma Simmons before he died. However, he had to carefully manipulate everyone, in the most loving way possible.  IT was for their own good after all. Hopefully in a few years, they'd realize it. 

 

 


	5. Jemma

Pre Meet n’ Greet Jemma Simmons

Felix Blake

“I’m sorry Winston, I’m not bring you,” Felix informed his service dog. Winston stopped what he was doing, which was deciding which vest he should wear, and **_pouted_**. Winston had three service vests, one for dress up occasions when his puppy was at work, his camo one when his puppy was being a puppy and playing with his littermates and his leather motorcycle vest which Winston thought made him look really tough.

“Winston, I need to be normal,” Felix explained to his service dog. “I want to flirt with a pretty girl and… not have her notice you first.”

Winston’s liquid eyes were full of hurt and Felix tried to explain.

“You’re so much cuter than I am, and she can’t help but notice you,” he informed his service dog. “I need to do this on my own without your assistance because you would be an unfair advantage.”

Felix noticed that he was close to stimming and he cursed himself, while Winston plainly thought Felix was being a very silly puppy. He picked up his leather vest and placed it in Felix’s lap to encourage his puppy to bring him and most importantly, let him wear his vest.

“I want to have a taste of what normal people do,” admitted Felix. “I don’t want her immediately deciding that I’m too damaged for her to bother with. I’m tired of being broken, Winston. I just want… to have a conversation with someone who doesn’t think I’m a walking charity case. Pity gets old.”

Felix then sighed and leaned towards Winston.

“I need to develop a backbone. I need to stop crawling back towards Nikki. This could be a positive step towards that. Who knows, maybe this Simmons has a secret fascination for broken old men? Maybe she has a bizarre daddy fetish for silver foxes? Maybe you’ll have a little sister one of these days?”

Felix grimaced, and mumbled, “This is such a colossal mistake. If she’s smart, which she is, she’ll pick Phil as he’s the only logical choice of the five of us.”

For his honesty, Winston decided to jump on the bed next to his puppy and licked his little puppy’s face.

“I knew you’d understand,” Felix informed his dog. “Now, which tie? 

Winston tilted his head in confusion at the four ties that were slung over the back of a chair.

“I forgot, you only see blue, black, tan and yellow, right? Maybe I shouldn’t ask?” Felix admitted.

* * *

 

Phil Coulson

He sat at his desk, looked at his favorite picture of Audrey and he whispered, “I still love you. I think of you every single day. I’m doing this under protest, because Felix needs support. Not for John, as I wouldn’t inflict him on anyone, but for Felix.”

He rubbed his hand across his face, wished he could **_feel_** anything because…. really… what if he had to shake Simmons’ delicate hand? What if he accidentally **_hurt_** her… like he had Felix?

It would be best if he pretended that he was ill, stayed home far away from this farce, except for the fact that Melinda May and Maria Hill were sitting in his living room.  Knowing them as well as he did, he accepted that they had filled out his paperwork and had submitted his name.

Because they **_cared_** , you know.  They thought it was a crime that he hadn’t **_dated_** , not even once, since Audrey had died. How could they think he’d ever be able to date again after losing the love of his life?

“Hey, Aud, I think I’ll wear your favorite tie,” he informed the picture. "Don't you worry, I'll only ever love you."

It seemed to Phil that Audrey's smile turned slightly.... smirky... when he confessed that. 

* * *

 

John Garrett

John Garrett opened his locker, selected a turtleneck that look suspiciously similar to the countless others in his closet.  He took off the one he was wearing and replaced with the selected turtleneck. As was his norm, he didn’t look at his reflection in the mirror, at his body crisscrossed with old burns, scars and mementos of a job done right.

When he was dressed, he checked his appearance; smiled to confirm that his teeth were bright and white, that the collar of his turtleneck hid a particularly nasty scar and that he wasn’t blue.  Blue being a very bad color and quite distracting.

He checked his readings on his portable monitor. The main battery was online, and the battery reservoir was steady, at forty five percent. Should be enough to get him through the night even if Jemma Simmons decided that she wished to frickle frackle with a cyborg until the cows came home.

Unlikely as that was, because Felix and Phil would be the only realistic choice of her bachelors. 

His checklist completed, he smiled as his plan was in motion.

Hopefully Felix would bring Winston because without his service dog, Felix would be on the edge, prickly and jumpy. Of all the times, Felix needed to be… well… post-coital… mellow… and relaxed….it was now.  He decided that he’d get there early, because he needed to be sure his Evil Plans ™ were in motion.

* * *

 

The five male agents, some there willingly, some not so much, one marched off under gun point to the greet n' meet, were standing next to the bar. Each of them had at least one drink, and several were working on drink number three. Blake was on drink three, which was bad news as he rarely drank in public.  Blake normally limited himself to a social drink which he nursed through the evening, so he was anxious and self-medicating.

Christ, naturally, Blake hadn’t brought Winston, which would have easily given him points for sheer adorability and canceled out the anxious Blake’s acerbic nature.  Coulson was no better – he looked as though he wished to be anywhere but here, so Jonathan Garrett, smart ass to the rescue. 

**_Come on boys, you can’t secretly hope to continue our sleep overs!_ **

"I feel sorry for that poor girl," John Garrett announced. "She'll be overwhelmed by all the sheer masculinity and testosterone in the room. I hope she doesn't swoon."

Jasper Sitwell coughed a laugh, while Felix Blake rolled his eyes. Phil Coulson said nothing, as was his norm in public, but Grant Ward flushed. Shit, Ward was interested, which meant Garrett had to help Ward self-destruct as he was someone that should never EVER have children. Shit, Ward having kids would almost be as bad as John Garrett being a father.

"What's the problem, Blake? You don't want to drop trow to help produce future generations?" John merrily continued even while Blake's countenance appeared to darken. "Coulson, if Blake starts throwing punches, I'll take him, he's coy but scrappy. I'll let you have Jasper. Just don't let the glare from his head blind you."

Blake sniffed his disgust, "Typical Sagittarius."

"What about me?" Grant Ward asked as he hated being left out.

"You can hold Phil's and my jackets." Garrett decided. "If any of ZombieCoulson's body parts come off, you get to pick them up and keep them safe so we can reattach them with super glue. Jasper. Intel?"

Even while a not amused Phil Coulson smacked John Garrett on the back of his head, Jasper removed his glasses and shook his head. "You know it's not permitted for us to pry."

"Phil! That hurt," protested John. "When you rose from the grave after three days, you left your sense of humor in the ground."

That earned Garrison another smack to his head, this time by a lightning fast Jasper Sitwell. While John Garrett was willing to help lead… coerce… his best friends into meeting a pretty girl, he did wonder why the hell it had to hurt so much. Physically. 

"Spit it out, man," Blake growled to Jasper as he played his part of disgruntled, exasperated Blake to perfection. "It's not fair that only you have the intel. I see you dressed to impress."

While Blake and Coulson were in their suits, Garrett and Ward were wearing their usual fatigues, Jasper was wearing jeans, sweater and sharp black leather jacket. The Team of Old Men’s choice of clothing had been a conscious decision on their part, so it would appear that they weren’t planning and scamming.

"Sci-Tech, twenty five, not from America," Sitwell dutifully reported.

As the only male in the room who was under forty, Grant Ward brightened until Phil Coulson spoke. His voice was quite rough as he contributed his part, "Jemma Simmons."

"The Simmons of FitzSimmons." Blake stated.

The men deflated, the two youngest pondering what the exact relationship between Fitz and Simmons was and what it might mean. The three old dogs already knew what the relationship was, Bezzie Mates with no Sexual Attachment as Leo Fitz was a hound dog who didn’t prefer the fairer sex.

"Looks like we're getting matching bookends," quipped Garrett.

"It's a package deal?" asked Ward.

"Least you'll be warm at night with one on each side," Jasper quipped. "It will be helpful when the power goes out when the grid fails."

"Lads," John Garrett said in a very passable posh British accent. "Her IQ is higher than all five of ours combined. You know what that means, don't you?"

He paused, savored the blank looks on the four other men, and then continued, "Experience and treachery beats youth and pretty boy looks every time. Ward, just pack up and go home. You too, Jasper. Leave her to the two old men and Zombie."

Phil smiled, as only Garrett was brave enough, stupid enough and secure enough to call Coulson, Zombie, to his face. Phil's indulgent smile caused Garrett to turn towards Coulson. "Hey! Zombie smiled. And your face didn't fall off."

"It cracked though," Phil dryly admitted. He tapped his nose. "Did my nose fall off?"

Coulson had hoped by laughing at his trauma, he would lessen its hold on his soul and shattered psyche. Hasn't worked yet, but still he tried.   Blake snorted a laugh while Sitwell and Ward looked horrified. 

 _That’s good, boys. Keep up the façade that you two can’t stand each other_.

"Though I hope she doesn't mind that experience comes with a few scars," admitted John as he adjusted his turtle neck.

Jemma Simmons, Ray of Light, Science Goddess and Princess was dressed to impress when she arrived to meet her beaus. She was also horribly pale and quite utterly terrified, John noticed so he gestured to Team Old Dogs to keep an eye on Simmons. Just in case she decided to swoon, they could catch her.  It would be a romantic story to tell their kids one day. Properly edited as the truth, ‘Your Mum was so terrified that she fainted when she met me’ could lead to emotional scars. Instead, it could be changed to ‘I was overcome by love at first sight when I met your father.’

 ** _Wow_** , Simmons was…. very pretty and sweet looking.  John felt… protective…. Which…. Team Old Dogs echoed, he was glad to notice, especially when Simmons swooned. They were able to prevent her from collapsing to the floor. Instead, they gave her a controlled descent, and ensured that her lovely legs (Stop it JOHN!) were covered.

Poor girl came to and decided to swoon again. 

Shit, things were going south, quickly, so John decided it best to call the date an utter wash out. He decided to be heroic and carry her even though his back was screaming. Fortunately, there was a back exit so he could put her into his car and drive her to Medical while Fitz mother-henned Jemma.  

Jemma was swiftly taken in to a waiting bed leaving John and other four suitors standing in the waiting room.  Felix and Phil left after fifteen minutes, but John had caught their hand signals which stated that they’d, ‘Be back and resupplied in 20.’   So, with a few lies, and a heaping dash of character aspersions regarding Blake and Coulson, he convinced Ward and Sitwell to call it a night. Naturally, being boys, they ran.

Felix and Phil returned with flowers (for Jemma) and food (for them) and waited until they were given permission to visit Jemma. They trooped in, presented their offerings to the Science Goddess, and dutifully left.  The entire farce of an evening had left the three of them feeling depressed and out of sorts which meant that they ended the evening in Felix’s bed for some old fashion rubbing and tugging. And a cuddle.

In the afterglow, a pensive Phil, in the middle, spoke first. “She seemed scared,” he admitted.

“Terrified,” agreed Felix. "She looked like a deer in the headlights."

“She has a nice smile,” added Phil.  In a soft voice, he confessed, “Reminded me of Aud.”

“Poor kid,” murmured Felix. “We have to protect her from Sitwell and Ward. They’re not good enough for her.”

 Phil murmured his agreement, while John Garrett hid his smile behind a fluffy pillow.

Things were going exactly like he had planned.  If he could just keep Jemma Simmons from swooning, he might even be there when the three of them settled down.  Oops, Four. Sorry about that, Winston.

 


End file.
